


E is for Effort

by ThePrettyTomboy



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: 57, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, Humor, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Swearing, Trolling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrettyTomboy/pseuds/ThePrettyTomboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month into the semester, Felix discovers that two of his classmates are going to wreck the curve, and resolves to fix that. Unfortunately for the rest of the class, that's easier said than done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's that WORD Again

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time this was based on a prompt but I can't for life of me find it so? It was something along the lines of "someone is wrecking the curve, other someone does sexything to solve it". Anywho. This was intended to be a oneshot. It is not turning out as such. Enjoy.

The ghost of a smirk still lingered on Felix's face. The longer he stared at the seventy-nine percent scrawled at the top of his exam, the deeper the crease between his eyebrows became. He looked from his exam to the smartboard at the front of the room, allowing his expression to fall into a scowl at the two numbers on the top end of the bell curve graphic being displayed to the class. He glanced around, sharp eyes searching for any sign of jubilation in a sea of disappointment. The closest he found was in the stoic indifference displayed by the men on either side of him.

To Felix's left sat a sturdy blond with dark circles under his eyes. Felix caught the ninety-seven percent before his classmate turned the page to review his answers. So there was curve wrecker number one.

He tossed a surreptitious glance at the student to his left, a tall and powerfully built Hispanic guy that he had checked out more than once since the start of the semester, a proud one hundred percent displayed across his exam. A work-worn hand covered the score, drawing Felix's gaze upward to the unimpressed expression his tablemate wore. "Did you need something?"

"I was just wondering," Felix began, resting his chin in his hand and quirking one corner of his lips upward, "did you have to study to ace that test, or did you and the professor have a nice private chat in the bathroom before class?" He reveled in the flash of irritation that sparked in the other man's eyes. His tongue darted between his lips to wet them as he awaited a response.

The man rolled his eyes and turned away from Felix. When his classmate didn't take the cue and face forward, he sighed and fixed him with a glare out of the corner of his eye. "Unlike you, I have no need to take such drastic measures to pass an exam in an introductory psychology course."

"There's a difference between _needing_ to and _wanting_ to," Felix replied, eyes roving over the muscles beneath the man's skin and studying the pulse in his neck, imagining what it would feel like under his lips. He bit his bottom lip and drummed his fingers against his cheek. "And I am _really_ wanting to", he murmured under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

Felix glanced down at his classmate's paper for a fraction of a second before looking him in his forest green eyes, idly wondering if it was possible to drown in them. "Unlike you, _Locus_ ," he said, rolling the name on his tongue and savoring its flavor, "I have to put in effort to do well."

"Unlike _you_ —"

"Felix," he supplied.

Locus continued speaking, not dignifying the interruption with so much as a glare. "—I am _willing_ to put in the effort to do well."

Under the table they shared, Felix nudged Locus's knee with his own, bare skin meeting denim for the moment it took Locus to jerk away. "I'd put in effort for _you_."

A snarl curling his lips, Locus stood from his seat, his chair screeching back as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked out the door of the classroom.

Felix stared after him until his view was blocked by the wave of his disappointed classmates flooding out the door.

His gaze shifted to the blond, who was approaching the professor's desk, exam in hand. Felix eyed the way his metallic gray basketball shorts draped around the curve of his backside, at once highlighting and obscuring what lay underneath. "I'm not sure why my answer was wrong to question fifty-seven," he began, much to Felix's disinterest.

Felix gathered his belongings and slunk out of the classroom. He draped himself over a stray desk and waited until his overachieving classmate finally emerged. As the man passed by him, Felix conveniently fumbled with the water bottle he was pulling out of his backpack. It landed with a thwack at the blond's feet, startling him for a moment before his leaned down to pick it up, just as Felix had anticipated.

"Thanks," he said, twisting off the cap and taking a swig of the vodka inside. He met his classmate's eyes as he tucked the bottle into a pocket on his backpack. "So I noticed you did pretty well on our last exam."

The man shrugged, the hem of his pale yellow shirt lifting a fraction of an inch. Felix had the urge to slip a hand underneath the fabric and smooth his fingers over the pale—probably freckled if his nose and cheeks were anything to go by—skin of his abs. "I made some careless mistakes. I shouldn't have rushed."

Felix tossed his winning smile at the man and took a few steps forward before looking over his shoulder to make sure he'd gotten his classmate to follow him. "I hear you. I was so eager to be done for the day that I ended up with a high C. I'm disappointed in myself, really." He paused at the top of the stairs and held out his hand. "I'm Felix, by the way."

"Wash," his classmate replied, accepting the handshake with a firm grip.

A few steps down, Felix spoke again. "So what's your secret to success, Wash?" Felix bothered to elaborate only when his classmate's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You must have a method to the art of studying to have so _soundly_ destroyed that curve."

"Not...really?" Wash replied. "I just reviewed my notes and our reading assignments. It's no more effort than the professor expects to be put into the class."

A growl of frustration rose in Felix's throat. "There's that _word_ again," he muttered, not quite as low as he had hoped.

Wash's expression hardened. "If you're looking for shortcuts, then I'm afraid I can't help you. The only way to do well is to do the work." He pulled ahead of Felix as they exited the building and turned left at the sidewalk, tossing a, "See you in class," over his shoulder before trekking uphill toward the library.

Grumbling under his breath, Felix crossed the street, staring down the car that barreled toward him until it came to a screeching halt at the crosswalk. He flipped the driver off as they laid into the horn, taking a delicate step up onto the curb and smoothing his skirt, hands lingering on his ass for perhaps a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he continued toward his dorm. He took a swig from his water bottle as he pushed in the door to the building and gave a challenging glare to the freshman girl sitting on a nearby bench who crinkled her nose as he moved to screw the cap back on. At the nearest water fountain, Felix topped his bottle off for show, and the girl finally turned back to the television suspended in the corner of the room, leaving him to drink in peace. The hall was bustling with students dressed for the weekend's parties, asking friends to compare them to the pictures on their fake I.D.s and rate their believability. Felix wove through the crowd until he got to the thin metal door that separated his space from everyone else's, slipping in and locking it behind himself. He tossed his backpack on the empty bed across from his own, where his roommate Cunningham had slept for the first two days of the semester before coming down with mono; Felix had febreezed the shit out of his mattress after he'd packed up and moved out at the order of the residence director. While he was grateful for his stroke of luck, the idea that he'd slept in the same room as a sick man for two days still made his skin crawl nearly a month later.

Felix pulled an empty glass and a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew out of the sink, rinsing the caramelized liquid out of the former before estimating two shots into it from his water bottle and topping it off with the soda. Drink in hand, he fished his cell phone out of his jacket and checked for new messages. Not even Palomo—the kid down the hall who had spotted the vodka Felix smuggled into his room on the first night and used it as leverage to turn Felix into his booze liaison a couple times every week—had contacted him since Sunday. Felix opened up their conversation. _know of any parties tonight?_

The response was almost instantaneous. _Palomo bombed his first exam and has been forcibly placed in my study group until he brings his grades up. -Smith_ Smith was the most responsible of the three teenagers in the corner dorm, and as far as Felix could tell from the pointed looks he'd been given while making deliveries, a real goddamn stick in the mud. Felix didn't doubt that Smith was the arbiter of Palomo's punishment.

With a shrug, he fired off a duplicate message to Palomo and Smith's other roommate, Bitters. When his phone buzzed a few seconds later he knew that the same fate had befallen him; Bitters never answered in under ten minutes. Groaning, Felix checked the message anyway. _Bitters is also studying. -Smith_

Felix scrolled through his contacts, looking for anyone at all who might keep this from being one of _those_ Friday nights, finally settling on Vanessa Kimball, who had been the leader of his group project for government class last semester. Despite their considerable differences and existence in completely different social spheres, they were on relatively friendly terms, so Felix hazarded a, _hey vanessa whats up?_ Even she partied sometimes, and he could only hope this was one of those times.

_Helping Smith tutor Bitters and Palomo. Stop texting._

_wow rude_ , he responded before tossing his cell phone across the room and gulping down the rest of his drink. Out of people with whom he was willing to party, Felix squirmed out of his skirt and kicked it off, sending it sailing to the window, where it hung precariously from the latch. He settled at his desk and opened his laptop, pouring another drink as it booted up. If he couldn't go out tonight, he was going to use his smurf account on _League_ to harass as many noobs as possible. It was the best stress relief strategy he'd come across since replacing his water intake with vodka. But after entering his password, his screen filled with white and blue, reminding him that he'd left Facebook open again. The name at the top of tall, dark, and handsome's paper resurfaced in his mind and his fingers twitched for a moment before he gave in to the impulse and typed "Locus" into the search bar, filtering for people who went to his school. As it turned out, Locus didn't use Facebook, or at the very least didn't list where he was going to school. Or where he lived. Before giving up on Facebook entirely he tried finding Wash, but there were over a hundred students with "wash" in their names and he couldn't be assed to pore over their profiles. He exited the window and ran his game, delighting in the upset he caused the teams he joined as he claimed the jungling position with Soraka and fed his opponents while berating his teammates and insisting they "do better" and "pull their weight".

About halfway through his fifth game and about as many shots, he heard rapping on his window and got up to investigate, leaving his character vulnerable to attack and his account vulnerable to reports for going afk. Felix removed his skirt from its place and squinted into the darkness to make out the figure outside. Recognizing the dreads and dark skin, he opened the window so they could talk. "What do you want?" he asked, failing to conceal the way his words were beginning to slur together.

"Dude, you made Simmons cry," Tucker responded.

"Not that I'm not proud of my achievement, but...?" He trailed off, losing his place in the sentence.

"You called him, and I quote 'a punkass little bitch whose daddy never loved him'." Tucker scoffed when Felix made an interrogative noise. "Don't play dumb, you have the game open right behind you! Besides, everyone knows your smurf account. Well, everyone except Caboose, but he doesn't count."

Now that Tucker put some context to it, Felix did recall spouting off something similar, albeit not intended as a targeted insult and certainly not at anyone he knew. "Uh...whoops?"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Just come over and apologize. I can't fucking stand the way he sniffles." He reached through the window and grabbed Felix's wrist, which was yanked away on instinct.

"Okay one: not actually my problem, and two: I'm not wearing pants." Felix made to close the window as Tucker gave a hurried reply.

"Do you _want_ to piss off the guy you pay to steal tests?"

A snarl spread across Felix's lips at the logic and he stepped into the skirt he was holding. "I fucking hate you, I hope you know that."

"Yeah whatever, let's just get this over with," said Tucker as he helped Felix climb out the window, hands lingering to steady his drunken swaying. "Hey, are you okay to walk?"

Felix pushed him away and started walking toward the building where Tucker lived. "Little late to be asking," he said, glaring back at Tucker as he dashed to catch up. Just as the other man drew level with him, Felix tripped over his own foot and landed flat on his face. "You're doing my laundry this week," Felix threatened as Tucker helped him back to his feet.

Tucker stretched his arms above his head as they continued across the grass. "No way, this shit's on you."

"It's not like it was on purpose."

"How didn't you know it was Simmons?" Tucker's voice reached a level that could only be described as shrill. "Have you ever seen anyone else whose summoner name is in binary?"

Felix waved the accusatory tone away. "I was _trolling_. Names? Not so important."

"Still doesn't make it okay, dude," Tucker said as he held the door for Felix to stumble through. "Do you remember where the room is? I have to pee."

In the middle of the hallway, Felix struck a pinup pose, backside facing Tucker as he struggled to maintain his balance. "Pop a boner on the way over? Don't worry, I have that effect on people."

"Please," Tucker laughed as he walked backward towards the bathrooms. "I _always_ have a boner."

A familiar voice butted into the conversation. "You should probably consider getting that checked out, _Lavernius_." Wash's expression was stern as their gazes locked. "It's quiet hours. Some people are trying to sleep." The bags under his eyes betrayed the pointedness of his statement. He turned to Felix, still holding his ridiculous pose. "What are you doing here?"

Straightening and composing himself as much as the alcohol in his blood would allow him, Felix replied, "Looking for some tips to study—"

"Bow chicka bow wow!" called Tucker as he retreated to the toilets.

"—study tips," Felix corrected, even knowing the damage had been done.

Wash sighed. "Just...whatever you're doing, keep it quiet." He turned and disappeared into his room, leaving Felix—who did not, in fact, have the damnedest idea where Tucker's room was—alone in the otherwise empty hallway.

 


	2. That's a Nice Gesture, But No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash has a rough morning.

Wash tucked his books away and took a drink of his coffee, gone cold long ago, ignored in favor of the reading for Monday. He pushed his chair back, its legs dragging along the carpet of the library floor. He looked around the quiet corner as he stood. Sometime since he’d last used the restroom it had cleared out, leaving him alone among the fluorescent-lit tables and shelves. Nodding at the exhausted student worker behind the reference desk, Wash left the building through the massive glass doors, still warm from the early autumn sun. He took the steep hill slowly, not wishing to be sent rolling into the street by one faulty step. Each light along the path bled into the next, guiding him safely to his dorm even after sunset was long gone. With every step he anticipated the embrace of his bed a little more.

“Please,” Wash heard as he rounded a corner, “I _always_ have a boner.” Backing toward the bathroom with his stupid smirk was one of the younger students on Wash’s floor, easily recognizable by his aqua sweatpants and abundance of sex jokes.

Wash rolled his eyes. “You should probably consider getting that checked out, _Lavernius_.” Mustering his best RA look, he said, “It’s quiet hours. Some people are trying to sleep.” A familiar splash of orange caught his attention on the other side of the hall. Wash frowned just the littlest bit; he was almost certain that his psychology classmate didn’t live in his building, much less on his own floor. “What are you doing here?”

The way Felix attempted to rectify his less-than-appropriate pose was more than enough of a clue that he’d continued drinking since the sip he’d taken from the obviously vodka-filled water bottle that afternoon. “Looking for some tips to study—”

Tucker shouted, “Bow chicka bow wow!” before absconding.

Unamused, Wash raised his eyebrows at Felix, who attempted to correct his slip while maintaining his unruffled facade. He sighed, not wanting to deal with whatever shenanigans Tucker and his friends must have been up to tonight. Instead he warned Felix to keep quiet before getting out his key and escaping into his room.

As he carefully hung his backpack from the Command hook he’d stuck to the back of his door, Wash heard shuffling feet and a mumbled swear. The shuffling went back and forth past his room, until finally it faded away to his left.

The silence of the room crept over Wash as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it in his clothes hamper, noting that tomorrow morning he needed to get up early to do his laundry. He pressed the power button for the stereo he kept on his desk. The gentle voice of a middle-aged man reading the book he had been assigned for lit class filled the room as he finished undressing and laid on his bed in nothing but boxers to air himself out a bit. Just as he was beginning to doze despite knowing the next fifty pages were due by Tuesday, a rapid series of knocks on his door jolted him out of bed, stumbling past his discarded clothes without a second thought. He turned the handle and pulled, prepared to deal with one of his residents.

Instead he found Felix, swaying with a hand raised to knock again. The other man’s bleary gaze locked onto Wash’s bare chest as he gave an almost imperceptible nod, as though confirming to himself some assumption he had made. “Is your air conditioner broken, or are you always this hot?”

Wash crossed his arms in an attempt to maintain his dignity. “Did you need something?” he asked, doing his best to sound nonplussed to convince the fire crawling up his ears to stop spreading.

“Well,” Felix began as he leaned against the doorframe, “I _was_ looking for Tucker’s room, but I could get comfortable right here.” He ran a hand through the orange stripe in his hair and cocked his head with a smile that might have been suave had his face not been flushed and his eyes unfocused. “You must study hard to get abs that chiseled by brainpower alone.”

The rebuttal Wash planned to give tumbled over itself, coming out in little more than a heap of noises as his neck broke out into bright red hives of embarrassment. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through pursed lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Tucker exiting the bathroom and called out for him. “ _Please_ ,” he began, catching at the desperation in his voice and starting again in a more level tone. “Please control your guest, or I will have him removed from the building.”

Tucker looked from the increasingly red-faced Wash to the practically drooling Felix, failing to conceal his amusement. “Tried sticking any ones in his boxers yet?”

“ _Tucker_.”

He put his hands up and backed away, grabbing Felix as an afterthought and dragging him along as he tossed, “I go, I go; look how I go, swifter than an arrow from the Tartar’s bow,” over his shoulder. At least he’d been doing his theatre appreciation homework like he’d promised after Wash had overheard him bemoaning a D on his first quiz. For all he complained about the difficulty of his classes, he did well when he bothered to apply himself, and Wash had made it his mission this semester to push him to be the best student he could be. If only he would stay away from people like his neighbor Grif, he might even find out he _enjoyed_ his classes.

Wash ducked back inside his room once more, turning off the stereo in resignation. Those fifty pages would have to wait for tomorrow morning in the laundry room. He curled up on his bed and pulled the sheet up to his chest, a thin layer of protection between himself and whatever monsters lurked outside the safety of his room. His eyes fell closed and he drifted off to sleep without turning out the lights. During the night he dreamt of emergency cram sessions the night before finals and of arriving in only his boxers, of Felix as judge and Tucker as jury in a court of law condemning his partial nudity, and of a kitten teaching psychology. A really. Big. Kitten.

When he cracked one eye open it met the green digital face of his alarm clock reading 4:57. A couple minutes later it sounded, and Wash turned it off before sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. He slid out from under his sheet and cast around for his dresser, brain still foggy from sleep and mind still idly analyzing the likelihood that he had not noticed his professor was in fact a cat that gave out extra credit points in exchange for head scratches. Pulling out the drawer, he rummaged for a suitable ensemble in which to leave his room on a Saturday morning, settling on track sweats and a threadbare muscle tee. Wash grabbed the edge of his clothes hamper and dragged it to the door, which he opened with an elbow and wedged with a toe as he blindly dug in the front of his backpack for his room key, pocketing it once his fingers closed around the metal shape. He shoved the hamper out the door in front of him, the force behind the motion sending it spilling his dirty laundry into the hall.

The thunk of the plastic edge hitting the ground was followed by a whimper of pain, and the mountain of clothes shifted until a Halloween-striped head popped out, eyes narrowed and a snarl forming on his lips. "Who the _fuck_ ," Felix began, rage boiling over, "do you think you are, coming into _my_ —" He stopped short and glanced about, perplexion spreading across his features, quickly replaced by regret as he registered who he was talking to. "To my credit, I have no idea how I got here." Standing, he took in his surroundings. "Is this Tucker's building?"

Blackout. Wonderful. "You've been here since sometime after dark last night. Drunk."

" _Shit_ ," Felix swore under his breath. His eyes met Wash's, searching, not appearing to like what he found. "Whatever I did, I want you to know that I will do my utmost to make it up to you." He knelt to the ground and began rounding up the spilled articles of clothing, tossing them back into the hamper. "Let me do your laundry, where's the—"

"That's a nice gesture, but no," Wash replied coldly, perhaps unfounded images of missing boxers in the forefront of his thoughts. "Go home. Drink water." He hefted the hamper up into his arms and began marching down the hall toward the laundry room, rolling his eyes when he heard scrambling footsteps behind him. “ _Felix_.”

“Do you want a coffee? Breakfast? I’ll hand deliver.”

Wash let the swinging door shut in Felix’s face and ignored his continued pleading as he shoved his clothes into the washing machine. He stuffed in the last towel before filling the detergent and softener slots and turning the machine on, letting the rumbling drown out whatever Felix was attempting to offer him now and taking a seat on the dryer across the room. He patted down his pockets in search of his cell phone, replaying the end of yesterday in his head. A sudden sinking feeling erupted in the pit of his stomach as he leapt off the dryer and yanked the washing machine open, stumbling into Felix as he did so.

“Are you even listening to...uh, Wash?”

He tossed his clothes—which had attained various states of dampness—on the ground, searching desperately for the pair of basketball shorts he’d worn the day before, finding them at last at the back of the machine, heavy even for being sopping wet. “No no no no,” he muttered under his breath as he stuck his hand in the right pocket. It closed around a slippery rectangular shape. “Noooo,” he moaned as he examined his phone, attempting and reattempting to turn it on, not even getting the courtesy of the brand screen that came with a drained battery. Wash hit his forehead against the edge of the washing machine, making an unintelligible noise of frustration. He didn’t so much as flinch when a hand rested on his shoulder, just closed his eyes and grit out a, “ _What_.”

“I’ve got rice in my room.”

A sudden glimmer of hope had Wash looking over his shoulder, albeit suspiciously, into a smug face trying its best to look comforting. “Why?”

The tiniest flicker of a grin passed over Felix’s lips. “Y’know, most people take one look at my face and assume rice constitutes at least half of my diet.”

“One whiff of your water bottle tells me vodka is a more likely contender,” Wash replied as he began throwing his clothes back into the washing machine.

Felix flinched back a bit before pointedly picking up a pair of yellow pinstriped boxers and tossing them in after the sock Wash held. “I didn’t say they were _right_. Anyway, you’re more than welcome to use some. Trust me, it works like a charm.”

Wash weighed his options as he restarted the washing machine. “All right,” he said at last. He stared at the hand that Felix offered him, raising his eyebrows as the other man waved it in his face.

“Hand me the phone, genius,” he demanded, a bit of the snarl from earlier slipping into his voice as he grabbed Wash’s cell phone and popped the back off, removing the battery. “This little fucker is what’ll really ruin your phone if you let it,” Felix said as he flashed the power cell at Wash. “Follow me if you want your phone to live,” he said, all mock seriousness and quirked lips.

With a sigh, Wash followed, suspecting that his battery would be held hostage until he complied. He was surprised when they approached the oldest and by extension cheapest dorms on campus. Something about Felix had screamed big money, and he had expected to be led to the student apartments or at least the suite-style dorms on the other side of the quad.

Apparently his surprise showed on his face, because Felix’s shoulders stiffened a bit when he held the front door open for Wash to enter. “Some of us are saving to move out soon,” he retorted to the unspoken comments.

“I didn’t say anything,” Wash responded, taken aback by the combative tone to Felix’s voice. “I’m only able to live where I do because I’m an RA.”

“Kind of got that from the solo room.”

Wash frowned, catching onto the lie he’d been told. “I thought you said you didn’t remember last night.”

Waving off the accusation Felix said, “I apologized, didn’t I?” He stopped in front of a metal door and patted his thighs, fingers curling around the hem of his skirt. “God _fucking_ dammit.” Felix turned to Wash, holding his hands up as though he were staying a velociraptor. “I left my keys in my room, I’ll be right back.”

A couple minutes passed, and Wash was considering just catching the nearest bus to the grocery store when he heard a crash on the other side of the door, followed by a click as the door swung in to reveal a disheveled Felix, behind who was an open window. “Did you just break into your own room?”

“Of course not. The window’s been open all night, I didn’t have to break it.”

“You know that you can request a key from the front desk, right?”

Felix scoffed as he pulled a box of rice and a sandwich bag from the cabinet under his sink. “Yeah, but I’m saving my free one for when I really have locked myself out. I don’t have fifty bucks to drop every time I leave through the window.”

Wash busied himself dismantling his phone. “For the love of god, why would leave through the window,” he said, not really phrasing it as a question.

Heavy knocking on the metal door caught both of their attention, and Felix abandoned his rescue project to answer, a hint of a sour expression on his face. “Can I help...Locus?”

Curiosity won over urgency, and Wash leaned over to catch a glimpse of the student at the door. He recognized him as the vaguely unsettling guy who sat on the other side of Felix in psychology, and quickly returned to saving his cell phone.

“Smith came to me with a noise complaint from your room.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Felix answered. “Also can’t imagine why he would bother you about it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Wash saw Felix’s eyes rove over Locus’s chest.

Locus pinched his nose. “I’m your RA, of course he reported it to me.”

The edges of Felix’s lips twitched upward and his eyebrows raised. “Oh _are_ you now? That’s good to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy, I finished a second chapter go me!

**Author's Note:**

> I don't play LoL but I've picked up a few things from my brother. He suggested Soraka as a troll jungler.  
> Fair warning, I will try to update this sometimes but I have the worst attention span ever. Of all time.


End file.
